Post by Locke (DP) on Jul 19, 2010 14:08:30 GMT -5
Ilvyn hated pirates regardless of the fact that they were air…sea…whatever rogues, much akin to the young fel’asar. First, regardless of what other people say pirates are not easily distinguishable from regular people. Pirates do not have peg legs, pet parrots, and they don’t obnoxiously shout ‘arr’ every five words when they speak. How was Ilvyn to know that he was, indeed, boarding a pirate ship? Second, pirates don’t have posted schedules of where they are travelling next, or if they did they didn’t heed them anyways. Ilvyn had thought he was going from Red Axe to Silvereye, but he knew something was wrong when the trip took a lot longer than usual.
Once Ilvyn realized he was on a pirate ship, he had no choice but to hide in the cargo hold. Kin or not, Vyn knew the pirates wouldn’t be happy to find a rogue fel’asar sneaking around on their ship, and would probably throw him off mid-flight if his presence was discovered. The result of having to hide away the entire trip meant no food and drink only in the form of wine bottles the boy had filched. It had been a long and miserable trip.
The relief he felt when the airship shuttered to a halt was monumental. Ilvyn wasn’t free yet. The boy needed to get off this damn ship before crew members started unloading and stumbled upon him. Of course, if there was something Ilvyn shared with the pirates’ right this moment it was that they were both tired and starving. The crew left the airship in the hands of a few trusted guards while they left to get food, ale, and wenches. Vyn thought that sounded rather good right now. It was time to depart.
A pirate guard stood in his only exit. Of course the back of the airship opened up for large cargo, much like a modern day plane, but opening that seemed the least stealthy thing the boy could do right now. The boy silently unsheathed his sword and used it in the way that he thought swords should be used; as a bludgeoning weapon. Ilvyn smacked the bastard so hard in the back of the head he dropped like a sack of potatoes.
That was…pleasantly easy.
Slipping past some of the other guards standing near the front of the airship was pretty easy. Ilvyn didn’t really care who saw him get off the ship as long as it was no one from this particular crew. The hard part came once he got on the dock, for he was hit with a late fit of airsickness…and he was hit hard.
Ilvyn wasn’t certain if people were staring at him because of his looks or because he was wobbling back and forth, stumbling about like a drunkard. Perhaps it was just delayed vertigo, but he had even more difficulty standing when he came to the realization that for once in his life he had no idea where he was at. The only docks this big he had ever seen was in Red Axe and these airship docks were even larger. Anxiety running the last of his nerves raw, the boy bent down to retch a stream of translucent mahogany hued liquid on the floor.
“That’s disgusting.”
Ilvyn looked towards the voice and saw a group of uniformed men leaning on an impressive looking airship and regarding Vyn with revulsion. They seemed unfriendly…hostile…probably people he shouldn’t be talking to. When one is lost, panicked, and dizzy, they don’t really care how unfriendly people looked, even uniformed people. Straightening up, spitting the last of the sour tasting wine-vomit from his mouth, Vyn stepped over the puddle and approached these strange men. All of them suddenly seemed very alert when they realized the fel’asar was heading in their direction. One man even put his hand on his sword.
There’s a welcoming sight.
“I’m a bit lost,” Vyn managed, though his voice was hoarse. “I was wondering if you fine gentlemen could direct me to a restaurant or bakery.”
“Fel’asaris buy their own food? Do you think I was born yesterday, runt?” One man commented. “Well, why you just standing there, ya’ dumb fuck? Obviously you aren’t going to find any food to steal up here.”
This man making such remarks in his snide voice was enough to drive Ilvyn up the wall. Before the man could draw a weapon, Ilvyn had him by the front of his uniform. The man was surprised, likely shocked that one small fel’asar could manhandle him so effortlessly. Vyn held him an inch away from his face, “Look here, motherfucker. I don’t have time for this shit. I am fucking hungry. As a man you should understand that I take my food fucking seriously. You can kindly direct me to a restaurant or bakery or I can beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”
The man stared blankly at Vyn, like a deer caught in headlights, but said nothing. Ilvyn couldn’t mistake the look in his eyes for fear, for all around him his comrades held guns to Ilvyn’s head and were shouting at the fel’asar to drop him. Ilvyn did, slowly.
I’m in trouble now.
Once Ilvyn realized he was on a pirate ship, he had no choice but to hide in the cargo hold. Kin or not, Vyn knew the pirates wouldn’t be happy to find a rogue fel’asar sneaking around on their ship, and would probably throw him off mid-flight if his presence was discovered. The result of having to hide away the entire trip meant no food and drink only in the form of wine bottles the boy had filched. It had been a long and miserable trip.
The relief he felt when the airship shuttered to a halt was monumental. Ilvyn wasn’t free yet. The boy needed to get off this damn ship before crew members started unloading and stumbled upon him. Of course, if there was something Ilvyn shared with the pirates’ right this moment it was that they were both tired and starving. The crew left the airship in the hands of a few trusted guards while they left to get food, ale, and wenches. Vyn thought that sounded rather good right now. It was time to depart.
A pirate guard stood in his only exit. Of course the back of the airship opened up for large cargo, much like a modern day plane, but opening that seemed the least stealthy thing the boy could do right now. The boy silently unsheathed his sword and used it in the way that he thought swords should be used; as a bludgeoning weapon. Ilvyn smacked the bastard so hard in the back of the head he dropped like a sack of potatoes.
That was…pleasantly easy.
Slipping past some of the other guards standing near the front of the airship was pretty easy. Ilvyn didn’t really care who saw him get off the ship as long as it was no one from this particular crew. The hard part came once he got on the dock, for he was hit with a late fit of airsickness…and he was hit hard.
Ilvyn wasn’t certain if people were staring at him because of his looks or because he was wobbling back and forth, stumbling about like a drunkard. Perhaps it was just delayed vertigo, but he had even more difficulty standing when he came to the realization that for once in his life he had no idea where he was at. The only docks this big he had ever seen was in Red Axe and these airship docks were even larger. Anxiety running the last of his nerves raw, the boy bent down to retch a stream of translucent mahogany hued liquid on the floor.
“That’s disgusting.”
Ilvyn looked towards the voice and saw a group of uniformed men leaning on an impressive looking airship and regarding Vyn with revulsion. They seemed unfriendly…hostile…probably people he shouldn’t be talking to. When one is lost, panicked, and dizzy, they don’t really care how unfriendly people looked, even uniformed people. Straightening up, spitting the last of the sour tasting wine-vomit from his mouth, Vyn stepped over the puddle and approached these strange men. All of them suddenly seemed very alert when they realized the fel’asar was heading in their direction. One man even put his hand on his sword.
There’s a welcoming sight.
“I’m a bit lost,” Vyn managed, though his voice was hoarse. “I was wondering if you fine gentlemen could direct me to a restaurant or bakery.”
“Fel’asaris buy their own food? Do you think I was born yesterday, runt?” One man commented. “Well, why you just standing there, ya’ dumb fuck? Obviously you aren’t going to find any food to steal up here.”
This man making such remarks in his snide voice was enough to drive Ilvyn up the wall. Before the man could draw a weapon, Ilvyn had him by the front of his uniform. The man was surprised, likely shocked that one small fel’asar could manhandle him so effortlessly. Vyn held him an inch away from his face, “Look here, motherfucker. I don’t have time for this shit. I am fucking hungry. As a man you should understand that I take my food fucking seriously. You can kindly direct me to a restaurant or bakery or I can beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”
The man stared blankly at Vyn, like a deer caught in headlights, but said nothing. Ilvyn couldn’t mistake the look in his eyes for fear, for all around him his comrades held guns to Ilvyn’s head and were shouting at the fel’asar to drop him. Ilvyn did, slowly.
I’m in trouble now.